‘Oh, what did they say to you? Who spoke to you? Tell me what any one has to say about my boy.’ ‘It was nothing, after all; it was Mr. Osborne. He said Jim went to some house where it would be better he should not go.’ ‘Mr. Osborne!’ cried the Rector’s wife. ‘Oh, Emily, that one who belongs to Jim should listen to that man! There is a man,’ cried the troubled mother, ‘who, if he liked, might have done almost anything with Jim. Not preaching to him; that’s not what I mean. But he is a young man, only five years older; a University man, a man wishing to have good influence. Where does he go to exercise this good influence, Emily? To Riverside; to the men who don’t care, who laugh at him behind his back--and to get the old women to give up their glass of beer, and the little children, that know nothing, to take his blue ribbon. Oh, and there was Jim in his way,’ said the poor mother, ‘Jim at his door, a University man, too; his Rector’s son, his own kind. Did he ever try to get a good influence over Jim? to ask him of an evening, to take him for walks, to give him an interest? Never, never, never! He goes about the parish and makes the poor women promise to give up their drop of beer. What does he know about what they need, about their innocent drop of beer, him a strong young man, well fed, wanting nothing? But my Jim, that was what he wanted, a strong man of his own kind; a young man that he had no suspicion of; that didn’t need to preach. That’s what the boy wants, Emily; not his father, that is angry, or me that only cries, but one like himself. Is it better to gain a good influence over poor old Mrs. Lloyd than over Jim, or to hold temperance meetings when he might do a brother’s part to get hold of that boy?’ ‘Oh, mamma, what are you saying?’ said Emmy, still anxious to save appearances. ‘Aunt Emily will think that dear Jim----’ Florence said nothing, but sat staring into the vacant air with wide open eyes full of trouble, while Mrs. Plowden, altogether broken down, put her head upon Lady William’s shoulder and cried. ‘It’s mamma’s nerves,’ said Emmy again; ‘she has been upset to-day. You are not to think, Aunt Emily, that anything dreadful has happened. Nothing is wrong with Jim; it is only that papa is angry with him, and mamma has got it on her nerves, and--mamma, this was not what you came to talk of, you know.’ Mrs. Plowden raised her head after a minute with a piteous smile. ‘Thank you, Emily, you’re always kind,’ she said; ‘and it’s only my nerves, as Emmy says. I get agitated, and then everything looks black, as if it never would come right again. It isn’t that there’s anything to be frightened about, and you know what a true good heart my Jim has, and that’s everything, isn’t it? That’s everything,’ the poor lady said. ‘What mamma really wanted to ask you, Aunt Emily,’ said Emmy, ‘was whether you had seen Mrs. Swinford. She has been to call at the Rectory.’